


A Valediction

by theherocomplex



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Death, F/M, Mass Effect Kink Meme, Post-Destroy Ending, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 01:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theherocomplex/pseuds/theherocomplex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Today is the day of days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Valediction

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for [this prompt](http://masseffectkink.livejournal.com/6609.html?thread=28041681#t28041681) at the kink meme.

Today is the day of days.

The galaxy is safe, battered and broken but unbent. It will heal. The rooms around them are quiet. No one moves here now. They’ve gone far away, to other rooms where there is still light and tomorrow is not a curse. For now, he’s alone with the woman he built a life upon.

Today, he doesn’t need to snatch minutes between shift changes in elevators. They have all the time they could want. He knows exactly what he wants.

Her skin is cool under his hands, as it always is. She joked about it their first night together as she dragged her foot along his leg. He jokes about it now, so quietly she can’t hear. With infinite patience, he cleans the cuts on her face and hands until all the blood is gone and her skin gleams beneath his fingers.

 _You’re beautiful_ , he tells her. There’s a tear still beaded at the corner of one eye, so he wipes it away with a knuckle. _We won, no more tears_ , he says, mock-stern.

Outside the room, he finds a water jug and a few blankets. He brings them back to her, apologizing for being gone so long, but she’s not angry. Remembering all the little tricks he learned to make her sigh and go pliant under his hands, he rinses her hair clean, runs his talons over her scalp. She’s colder when he’s done, so he wraps a blanket around her and helps her to a chair near a window. There’s not a lot of light, but he’s sure it feels good on her face.

He sits next to her on the floor, holding her hand in his.

_We won. They’re all gone. They’re never coming back. You saved us._

He doesn’t tell her that their friends are already talking about awards and medals. She doesn’t care about that. She just wanted to save as many as she could.

_You did. Billions and billions, all of them alive because you never gave in._

Later, when the light begins to fade, he realizes he’s hungry.

_Do you want something to eat? I’ll find something._

It takes him longer than he likes, finding food for both of them. By the time he gets back, she’s been alone in the dark and even the blanket isn’t keeping her warm. He pulls her into his lap and holds her close. She’s soft against him, her hair still smelling slightly like fire. Maybe he’ll wash it again before they go to bed.

He eats sparingly but doesn’t push when her ration pack goes untouched. She’s not hungry.

From the corner of the room, he sees the dim glow of a datapad. How it survived, he’ll never know, but curiosity makes him investigate. He makes sure she’s comfortable on the chair before he goes after it.

The screen is cracked, but the last extranet page is still loaded. It’s a poem, by some human writer he only recognizes because she read him this poem, on a night when they were both too tired for love but still wanted to be with each other. Her voice was husky and stuttered on the archaic spellings, but when she was done he made her read it again, his hand wrapped around her ankle.

_Our two souls therefore, which are one,_  
 _Though I must go, endure not yet_  
 _A breach, but an expansion,_  
 _Like gold to aery thinness beat._  


He turns around to grin at her. _Look what I found._ He holds up the datapad, the light falling over her face. _Remember this? I’ll read it to you. Don’t tell me if I mess up, I don’t know anything about poetry._

He settles himself next to her and her head falls into the curve of his shoulder. When he starts to read, his throat closes for a moment, but she doesn’t criticize his stumble. They’ve been through hell.

He reads it twice, and is about to start a third time when he hears music, far away and tinny, like a child’s toy. It’s a waltz, not a tango, and probably part of some dying machinery no one can shut off, but he grins at her.

_Maybe it’s in poor taste to dance right after the end of the world, but I can’t think of a better time._

She moves lightly into his arms but she’s still got two left feet, and after a moment, he lifts her off the ground and spins slowly, disturbing the dust that seems to lie on everything.

_You’re finally letting me lead. I never thought this day would come._

He’s tired, so they don’t dance for long. As much as he hates to admit it, the day is ending -- the most private, quiet day they’ve ever had. Tomorrow things will be loud again, and this room will no longer be a sanctuary. They need to rest.

_Let’s go to bed._

He undresses her slowly, and cleans every new cut he finds before he redresses her in a soft tunic he found in the hallway. There’s a scorchmark on the hem, but she looks beautiful. He tells her so, and lays her down on the bed.

For a long time, he just watches her. His scouter is useless, it won’t tell him anything, so he turns it off and puts it on the floor.

_I want you to know that I meant all of it. Retiring, the beach, having kids, being happy. We may not have been happy all the time, but we’d be happy enough. And even when we weren’t happy, we’d still be together. I love you so much it’s like a spear in my side. Good night._

He strips out of his armor for the last time. There are no more wars for him to fight. He’s so tired he’s peaceful, a great hollow shell filled with air and longing. The bed groans when he lays next to her and pulls her against his chest. With one hand, he cradles her head and touches his forehead to hers.

The muzzle fits neatly against the soft skin under his jaw, where she kissed him so many times. His finger squeezes once. 

His mind shatters like a mirror carelessly dropped. In the fractured pieces, he sees her open her eyes, and her mouth shapes his name.

***

“You found him.”

Tali’s voice is clotted and rough, all wrong angles. Liara doesn’t turn around to answer. She just closes the door.

“I found them,” she says, and tries hard to remember that they are the victors.

**Author's Note:**

> The poem Garrus reads to Shepard is John Donne's _[A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning](http://www.luminarium.org/sevenlit/donne/mourning.php)_.


End file.
